


A Cottage Confusion

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you don't know... ask!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cottage Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Advocate's Deli #1, Leyla Harding editor, then reprinted in Green Floating Weirdness #17, both under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"The Colonel and our lady Doc?"_

 

Suzanne cracked open the Colonel's office door and poked her head inside.  "Knock, knock."

Lieutenant Colonel Paul Ironhorse glanced up from the latest pile of never-ending forms to cross his desk, a pleasantly surprised look on his face.  "Yes, Doctor?"

"Can I have a few minutes of your time?"

Ironhorse stood.  "Certainly.  Please, come in."

He could tell by the expression on the microbiologist's face that something was troubling her, but nothing sprang immediately to the soldier's mind.  The Blackwood Project members had recently managed to stop an alien plot to send poisoned grain to most of the world's poorer nations.  And although they'd been unable to acquire the secret of the wheat's radiation-resistant nature, Suzanne had still seemed happy with the outcome.

Suzanne stepped inside the tasteful yet somewhat Spartan office of the Project's military liaison and chief of security, pulling the door almost shut behind her.  "It's about Debi."

"Oh?"

"If I didn't know better I'd swear she either knows, or she is herself."

"What makes you say that?" the Colonel asked, easing himself back into his seat.

"About an hour ago I found her snacking on dill pickles and crackers."

"So?  She's thirteen.  All sorts of things constitute food at that age, Doctor," Ironhorse teased.

"True.  But I just passed her on my way downstairs, and she had a bowl of strawberry ice cream with her.  That's what I was eating when I was pregnant with Debi."

"Dill pickles and strawberry ice cream?" the soldier asked, a flash of green passing across his cheeks.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Harrison Blackwood, civilian leader of the alien-busting Blackwood Project, was almost to his office door when the Colonel's words echoed out of his office at a slightly higher than normal pitch.  "Dill pickles and strawberry ice cream?"

The astrophysicist felt his own stomach roil slightly as it rejected the combination.  He hesitated.  Eavesdropping was not a mature action.  It was rude.  It was a breach of trust.  It was— He moved closer to the door.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Suzanne, I really don't think Debi knows."

"I should hope not.  But what're we going to do?  We can't let this go on much longer or it's going to be obvious, and then there'll be no turning back."

"I realize that."

"And you're sure you took all the precautions?"

"Doctor, I was very careful."

Suzanne sighed heavily.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sure you were.  Things like this do happen, but why me?  Debi and I were just starting to feel comfortable with our situation here, and—"

"She's a very grown-up young lady, Suzanne.  I'm sure if we have to, we can just sit down with her and explain—"  He stopped short.

"What?"

"There is another way."

"Why don't I think I'm going to like what you're about to suggest?" Suzanne asked.

"It would be a relatively simple operation at this point."

"I don't know.  I don't think we could fool her that easily.  If she already suspects and we let her down…"  She trailed off.

"You have a point.  But as you said, we can't let this continue.  One way or the other it has to be solved.  And quickly, before everyone knows."

"Well, I'm at my wits’ end.  Whatever you think is best, I'll go along with it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Blackwood scrambled away from Ironhorse's door on tiptoes, his mind whirling with the implications of the conversation he'd just overheard.  He reached his own office just as Suzanne stepped into the hall.  She looked at the astrophysicist, a small, tired smile on her face.  "Hi, Harrison."

"Hi, yourself," he replied.  After a short pause he added, "Anything wrong?"

"Nothing a little more foresight on somebody's part might have prevented."

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head.  "Nothing, it's nothing, really.  I'm sure it'll work itself out one way or another.  The Colonel's on top of it."  With that she turned and headed for the elevator.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Blackwood entered his office and headed immediately for his overstuffed leather office chair.  Collapsing into the seat, he stared at the closed door.  _It can't be_ , he argued with himself.  _It's impossible.  Less than a week ago Ironhorse was teasing me about my relationship with Suzanne…_

_And I said we were nothing more than business associates._

_Not that we_ are _anything more than business associates.  But that's not the point!  But if she's— Then they had to be— So the teasing was—_

He reached for the phone, snatching up the receiver and  punching the intercom button for Norton Drake's phone.

"'Lo," came the computer expert's smiling voice.

"Norton, we need to talk – _now_."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At his basement computer workstation Drake's eyebrows peaked.  "Sure, Doc. Where?"

"My office."

"Okay, I'll be right up."

Norton hung up the phone, then looked across the equipment to find Suzanne leaning in the doorway separating her Bio-lab from the computer room, a concerned expression on her face.

"He sound mad to you?" Norton asked.

She nodded.  "Funny, I just saw him a few minutes ago.  He seemed fine then."

"You know the Doc's moods.  The Big Guy must've said something to upset him."

McCullough nodded, then returned to her microscope.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Entering Blackwood's office, Norton found his long-time friend pacing anxiously through the center of the room.  "Something up?" he asked.

"We have trouble, Norton, big trouble."

"Aliens?"

"No, Ironhorse."

"What's new?"

"No, you don't understand.  It's not _just_ Ironhorse.  It's Ironhorse and Suzanne."

"The Colonel and our lady Doc?"

"Exactly."

Drake's forehead wrinkled.  "You want to run that by me again?"

"The Colonel—"  Blackwood stopped, forcing his voice to a near whisper.  "The Colonel and Suzanne have become more than just colleagues."

Norton's confusion showed no signs of abating.

"They've gotten _close_."

"Okay, is that a problem?"

"Norton, you're not listening."

"Well, I didn't realize that there was a problem between—"

"No, no, no.  They're… _involved_."

"What?!"

"Shh," Blackwood cautioned, "he'll hear you."

"Doc, that's impossible."

"It's worse."

"Worse?  Now you're not listening to—"

"She's pregnant."

Drake seriously contemplated ordering his voice-activated wheelchair out of the room so he could start the whole conversation over, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good.  Blackwood had one of his crusading expressions firmly anchored on his face.  "You're sure.  I mean, you're _absolutely_ sure?"

Blackwood repeated the majority of the conversation he'd overheard.  When he finished, Drake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  It was starting to tense. He never got tense, but Suzanne and Ironhorse?  Babies?  "Okay," Drake said with a ragged breath.  "I'll admit, it does sound like something's going on, but this is too serious for us to operate on assumptions.  One of us is going to have to ask one of them."

"Impossible.  You know how damned close-mouthed the Colonel is at the best of times."

"Then we'll ask Suzanne."

"And isolate her from us because she thinks we're spying on her?  When she's going to need us there?  I hardly think that's a good idea.  Do you?"

"Well, we have to ask someone," Norton argued.  "I mean, is this really any concern of ours?"

"Yes. absolutely.  Norton, we're a team.  We have to look out for each other."

"Yeah, but Suzanne might think you're looking in where you shouldn't be."

"She'll understand."

"Will the Colonel?"

"We'll just play it by ear.  Something will slip sooner or later and then they'll have to tell us."

"It sounds like it better be sooner," the computer expert mumbled.  "I never thought the Colonel would let something like this happen."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse left his office.  It was time to go for a run and try and sort out a reasonable course of action for the present situation.  Stepping into the hall he heard Blackwood's voice rise momentarily then fall.  The soldier paused.

Blackwood and Norton were meeting in the astrophysicist's office.

When Ironhorse thought he heard the word "Colonel," he walked over to the closed door and knocked.  The voices immediately fell silent.

"Yes?" came Harrison's voice past the heavy wood.

"Anything wrong, Doctor?"

"Uh, n-nothing," was the articulate reply.

With a shake of his head, the Colonel turned to go, but the door opening stopped him.

"Why?" Blackwood asked, his blue gaze boring into Ironhorse's black.  "Anything wrong with you?"

Ironhorse bristled slightly.  It sounded like an accusation.  "I'm just fine, Doctor.  But thank you for asking."  In a perfect military left-face, the Colonel turned and marched away.

"Touchy, isn't he," Harrison commented smugly.

"Well, wouldn't you be?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Later that afternoon Blackwood caught Suzanne slipping into Ironhorse's office a second time.  And although he hated to do it, the scientist quickly made his way to the closed door and pressed his ear against the wood.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Have you decided anything?" she asked the soldier.

"Yes.  I think we're just going to have to do this as quietly as possible.  The fewer people who know, the better.  There's no reason to drag everyone else into the situation."

"I guess you're right.  I never thought I'd be in a situation like this."

"I know exactly how you feel.  This isn't the sort of thing I'm all that familiar with either, Doctor.  But if we don't get it taken care of, you know what it'll be like," Ironhorse said.  "All the new fixtures, the extra food…"

Blackwood stiffened, his anger mounting.  It wasn't like Ironhorse would be paying for it himself!  They were on a government budget!

"It would take up a lot of space, too, although I don't think Debi would mind sharing her room… too much."

"She shouldn't have to.  I mean, when it comes right down to brass tacks, this is my fault.  I can't see making Debi pay for that."

 _You've got that right, mister!_ Blackwood thought.

Suzanne's voice was sympathetic.  "But it was my idea in the first place, so you can't shoulder all the guilt."

Blackwood's jaw dropped.  Suzanne's idea?  _But why Ironhorse?  Why not me?  What am I thinking!?_

The microbiologist continued.  "To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten how much work this is, but it's all coming back to me.  At the same time, I sort of miss having babies in the lab."

Harrison choked.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse looked up, stood, and headed for the closed door.  Opening the portal, he saw Blackwood's office door click shut.

"What?" Suzanne asked.

"Nothing.  I just thought I heard someone in the hall, but I guess it was just Blackwood on the way to his office."

"So you're going to kidnap the little thing and take it back, huh?"

"Like I told you earlier, I really don't see any other way.  I picked the hamster out, so I'll take it back.  They promised me it was a male.  I guess the employee couldn't tell one from the other any better than I could."

"It's not easy when it's a mouse or a young hamster.  Do you think they'll have a male that looks the same?"

"Suzanne, they all look the same."

"Paul, Debi's very attached to that little rodent.  Ever since Caesar died she's been moping around, until we got her Brutus— Ah, Cleopatra."

"Very funny."  He leaned over his desk, saying softly.  "Tomorrow you keep Debi occupied for a few hours and I'll make sure the exchange is taken care of."

"Sounds like a plan," the microbiologist said, standing.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After dinner the members of the Blackwood Project drifted into the living room, each taking up their usual positions: Ironhorse seated on the floor in front to the burning fireplace, Suzanne and Debi on the couch, Norton next to them in Gertrude, and Blackwood in one of the wing-back chairs.  An unusual quiet settled over the group, left over from dinner, during which Blackwood had said nothing, scowling at the Colonel for the entire time.  They had all noticed it, too, but no one was ready to ask the moody scientist what was wrong, least of all the soldier on the receiving end.

Once they reached the living room, the rules changed.  Problems were supposed to be left outside.  It was their place of refuge, relaxation, and a renewing of their ties to keep the fight going.

Debi finally broke the silence.  "Guess what."

"What, sweetheart?" Suzanne asked.

"Brutus is acting sort of funny.  I think I need to get him a bigger cage.  He's tearing up all the paper and shoving it out of the way in one corner.  And when I tried to pet him, he tried to bite me."

Suzanne and the Colonel exchanged nervous glances, a move not lost on Norton and Harrison.

"Oh?" the microbiologist finally replied.  "Did he?"

"No.  But what do you think's wrong with him?" she asked the assembled group.

          Seeing Blackwood's close scrutiny of the soldier, Norton couldn't resist a little teasing.  "Maybe he'd like a little company, Deb," Norton offered.  "You know, a lady friend."  A sharp glare from the Colonel surprised the computer programmer.  "Of course, maybe he's more the celibate type," Drake amended.

"Maybe he's upset," Blackwood suggested.  "Have you been treating him like you should?"

"Of course," the teenager countered indignantly.  "I wouldn't do anything bad to Brutus."

"Harrison," Suzanne chided, "that wasn't very nice."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.  "I didn't mean to imply that Debi would do anything intentionally.  It's just that some species are more sensitive to changes in living arrangements, and the like," he finished, looking directly at the Colonel.

"Why are you telling me?" the soldier asked, his patience with the scientist's strange behavior rapidly eroding.

Blackwood shrugged.  "I'll leave that to you, Colonel, and call it an early night."  Standing, the scientist stalked from the room.

"What's his problem?" Debi asked when Harrison was gone.

"I don't know, Chicken, but I think Harrison has a good idea.  Why don't we go get ready for bed, too?"

"Ah, Mom, it's still early.  Can't I stay up for a while longer?"

"Well, I suppose so.  Are you two staying up?" she asked the two men.  Ironhorse and Norton nodded.  "Okay, Kid-o, I guess you can keep these two in line."  Looking from Ironhorse to Norton she added, "And you two make sure she's in bed by ten-thirty."

"Yes, ma'am," Drake teased, snapping up a sloppy salute.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After checking to make sure Debi was really settled into bed – and not reading under the covers with her flashlight per her usual routine – the Colonel started back down to his first floor bedroom.  A soft hail from Suzanne's room stopped him at the head of the stairs.  Turning, he saw the microbiologist's finger curl in her direction, indicating that he should join her.

Silently he walked back and eased past the door.  "What?" he asked into the blackness.

"I checked out ol' Brutus, and delivery is imminent.  What're we going to do?"

"You mean now?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Harrison, lying on his bed, staring into the darkness obscuring the ceiling, heard the softly whispered "Pssst," that halted the Colonel.  Knowing that Ironhorse was on the second floor to check on Debi made him suspicious, and rising, he made it to the door in time to catch the Special Forces officer easing into Suzanne's room.

With a deep breath, Blackwood opened the door and took the necessary steps to reach the now closed aperture.

"You mean now?"

"That's right, Colonel," Suzanne whispered.  "Any bright ideas?"

 _Well, I have a few_.  Blackwood grabbed the doorknob and turned, pushing it open as he did.  "All right, I've stayed quiet about this as long as I can!" he declared.

"Blackwood, what the hell are you doing?" Ironhorse demanded.

"I might ask you the same thing, Colonel."

"I asked first."

"Do you two think you can lower your voices a few decibels?  People are trying to sleep," Suzanne said.

"Now, Doctor, what're you doing, barging into Suzanne's room in the middle of the night?"

"I hardly call eleven p.m. the middle of the night, Colonel.  And I'd like to hear what you're doing here, first."

Suzanne sighed heavily.  "If you don't mind," she whispered hotly.  "Harrison, Paul's here because we have a problem we need to work out."

"What sort of problem?"

"That's _not_ your concern, Blackwood."

"I happen to think it is!"

"Do you mind?" she repeated.

The two men turned to look at Suzanne.  "Harrison, listen, it's the hamster Paul picked up for Debi—"

"Hamster?"

          "Mom!" the nearly eardrum-rending cry silenced all three adults.

"Debi, what is it?" Suzanne called, already on her way to her daughter's room.  Stepping inside, the microbiologist found her daughter belly down the bed, her flashlight directed into the small cage Brutus lived in.  The girl's feet kicked delightedly.  "Mom, come look.  Brutus is having babies!"

"What?!  Ironhorse!"

In seconds the microbiologist was joined by her two colleagues, Norton finally rolling in as well.  "Hey, what's up?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Shhhh, it's Brutus," Debi explained.  "He— _She's_ having babies."

"Babies?  So that's what all the talk was about," Drake said softly, catching Harrison's despondent expression.  "So this was what all the hush-hush was about, huh?"

"What're you talking about, Mr. Drake?" Ironhorse asked.

The black man tried to hide his growing grin, but it was impossible.  "Oh, nothing.  It's just that—"

"That I didn't follow my own advice," Blackwood finished sheepishly.

The Colonel's eyebrows peaked.  "And just what advice is that, Blackwood?"

"The one about assumptions."

Suzanne glanced over her shoulder.  "Harrison, what _did_ you think?  Does this having anything to do with the way you've been acting?"

Blackwood sighed heavily.  "I'd really rather not discuss it."

"Doctor, I think you owe all of us an explanation," Ironhorse said, his growing amusement hidden in the dim light of the flashlight.

"An apology, maybe, but an explanation…"

"Ah, go on, Doc.  It is funny when you think about it," Norton prompted.

"All right.  As much as I hate to admit this, I was, uh, well, I was… I was under the impression that Suzanne was, well, pregnant."

"Pregnant?" the microbiologist and Ironhorse chorused.

"Mom?" Debi added, looking at the Colonel.

"No!" Suzanne directed at her daughter, then looked at Blackwood.  "How did you ever come to _that_ conclusion?"

Blackwood shifted uncomfortably.  "I, uh, I overheard you and the Colonel talking, and—"

"Overheard?" the soldier growled.

"Yes, at first.  Then… I listened."

"Harrison, I'm disappointed.  What sort of example are you setting for Debi?" Suzanne asked, her humor evident in the chastising comment.

"A _poor_ one," Ironhorse replied for the scientist, his gloat equally evident in his tone.

"But how?" Suzanne probed.  "I mean, when?  Who?"

"Yeah," Debi added.

Harrison's cheeks shifted to a deep red, dark enough to be seen in the room.

Norton chuckled softly.

"Well?" Suzanne pressed.  "Explain that one, Harrison.  Who was it?"

"I, huh, thought that you and— that you—"

"He thought that you and the Big Guy had become more than just business associates," Drake supplied.  Blackwood leveled the man with a burning glare, but Norton was oblivious.  "Close, I think he described it… involved, even—"

"Thank you, Norton!" Blackwood bellowed.

"Me?" the Colonel squeaked.

"The Colonel?" Debi questioned, smiling at the soldier.  "Gee, Mom—"

"Debi!"

The Colonel's response tickled Suzanne more than the information and she waggled her eyebrows at him.  "Now, don't yell at my daughter, Paul… just because the secret's out."

Recovering quickly, Ironhorse allowed his crooked grin to spread across his face.  "I suppose it is.  After all, since you and Blackwood are just business associates—"

"All right, all right!  Enough!" Harrison pleaded.  "I already feel like a heel as it is."

Debi smiled up at the physicist.  "That's okay, Harrison," she said.  "I'll still let you be Godfather for Brutus', uh, Cleopatra's babies."

Suzanne and Ironhorse burst into wild laughter.

"Now I don't think it's all _that_ funny!" Blackwood protested, but he felt the corners of his mouth start to rise.  "I think I'd like that, Deb."


End file.
